


The Aftermath

by AgentStannerShipper



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, But also Cuteness, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, M/M, flagrant disregard for cannon, lots of kingsman 2 spoilers, well some are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: A collection of stories post-Golden Circle.





	1. Four Ways Merlin Didn't Actually Die

**Author's Note:**

> Isn't denial a staple of our fandom? Also, not my best work, but I needed to get it all out of my system. There might be more if I think of more scenes I have thoughts on.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what the title says. Because I'm calling bullshit.

**The one where it was (almost) all a dream**

Harry wakes up gasping and trembling, clutching at his chest with one hand and groping for the left side of the bed with the other even as that damn song echoes and fades back into the recesses of his mind. He makes contact with a warm shoulder, slides his hand down to trail over the backs of fingers, then back up again across the chest to rest over the faintly thrumming heartbeat.

Merlin’s naturally rough voice is rougher with sleep when he murmurs, “Harry?” He pushes himself into a sitting position and turns on the bedside lamp. Harry pulls himself upright too, drinking in the sight of his partner bathed in the faint yellow glow. There’s worry in Merlin’s eyes, but he keeps it out of his voice when he asks softly, “Did you have another nightmare?” They’ve been recurring, ever since Harry got his memory back. Sometimes it’s flashes of his past, the Kingsman dog trials or being drowned. Sometimes it’s the church, getting shot in the head. But not tonight. Tonight it was worse.

“Poppyland,” Harry murmurs. He can’t keep his hands off Merlin, one remaining firmly over his heart and the other skating over Merlin’s strong arms, up along his neck, and down his side. “There was a landmine. You…you…that fucking song…” Harry chokes, tears welling up in his good eye.

Merlin pulls him close, tucking Harry’s head into the crook of his neck. Quietly, he asks, “What song?”

“That John Denver one you like so much. Country Road.”

“What about it?”

“You were singing it.”

Merlin’s fingers card through Harry’s hair. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“You stepped on a landmine. You died. You died singing that song and I didn’t even kiss you goodbye. I fucking saluted.” Harry’s heartbeat is slowing now, settling down to sync up with Merlin’s. He’s still crying, but the panic is fading away.

Gently, Merlin says, “I wasn’t there, Harry. I haven’t been out in the field with you in over eighteen years. It was a dream.”

“The landmine…”

“You and Eggsy went to Poppyland alone,” Merlin says calmly. “Eggsy almost stepped on a landmine, but he avoided it. I did what I always do. I handled the mission from the safety of Statesman headquarters. You had a bad dream, that’s all.”

Harry trusts Merlin. He trusts him with his life, with his memories, with everything, and he trusts that this is real. He settles when Merlin releases him to turn the light back off, and when Merlin lays back down he drapes himself across his partner’s chest, his ear pressed against Merlin’s throbbing heartbeat. It drowns out the singing still echoing in the back of Harry’s mind, and gradually he falls back asleep.

 

**The one where they actually have logical tech**

“Fuck,” Eggsy really doesn’t want to die like this, blown up by a landmine before they can even get the mission started. Merlin is already rummaging in his bag, and Eggsy can only pray that the tech wizard has something up his sleeve to fix this.

“Got it,” Merlin extracts a bottle, something that is clearly labelled deodorant but better fucking not be. He crouches by Eggsy’s foot, carefully sweeping dirt away from the area. Eggsy can practically feel the tension radiating from Harry as he watches the both of them.

Merlin gives the bottle a good shake, and then sprays it down around Eggsy’s shoe and the landmine, the goo coming out the consistency of spray cheese and hardening almost instantly, not unlike the cologne bottle Harry had made use of earlier. If he hadn’t literally been standing on an active landmine, Eggsy might have wrinkled his nose and protested at Merlin ruining his shoe, but under the circumstances, he really doesn’t think he can complain.

Merlin nods at his handiwork, then unlaces the oxford and tells Eggsy, “Very carefully, step out.”

Eggsy squeezes his eyes shut and lifts his foot, half expecting the mine to go off in spite of whatever magic Merlin has worked. When it doesn’t, he opens his eyes again and stares down at his feet, a tiny bit off balance with one shoe and one sock. “Thought I was a goner,” he breathes. “What is that stuff?”

Merlin hums, clearly pleased with himself. “Fast-acting advanced adhesive. Somewhere between glue and cement. Keeps the pressure consistent so the mine doesn’t go off, and it won’t wear off for hours. The tech department developed it ages ago, during the second world war. Landmines were a pretty big fucking problem, and they needed something to keep the agents from getting blown up at every turn. We don’t have much use for it anymore, but I believe in coming prepared.”

“And thank god for that,” Harry murmurs, the first words he’s spoken since Eggsy stepped and they all heard the tell-tale click.

“You’re the guvnor,” Eggsy tells Merlin. He glances back at his feet again, “Just, ah, how prepared are you? Or am I supposed to fight with only one shoe?”

 

**The one where medical is a miracle (aka I think how it was supposed to end)**

Harry imagines this must be something like what Merlin felt two or so years ago, watching through the glasses as Harry had taken a bullet to the head. The difference here is that Merlin had never been able to retrieve the body. He’d pulled, from what Harry understands from Eggsy, his strong and silent act, not mourning Harry except in the privacy of his own home. And, of course, Merlin hadn’t known that Harry was not only still alive, but would eventually make a full recovery.

“I can hear you thinking,” Merlin says without even opening his eyes. “You should stop it. Your brain might not be able to handle the strain.”

“Very funny,” Harry says. He squeezes Merlin’s hand, bringing the knuckles to his lips for a kiss. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got blown up by a fucking landmine.”

“Only partially,” Harry says mildly.

Merlin opens his eyes and glances down at his legs. Or rather, his lack thereof. It’s not the first time he’s been awake since they brought him in, but it’s probably the most coherent he’s been in that time. “Huh,” he says, and with most other people Harry would have expected shock or fear or rage, but not Merlin. Not Merlin, who when Harry had suggested joining the army had merely raised an eyebrow and said “okay,” Merlin who had followed Harry to Kingsman and made himself so completely at home in the tech department that no one wanted to be the one to tell him to leave, Merlin who took each consecutive agent’s death with a glass of scotch and a blank expression. Merlin who, every time Harry came back from a mission alive, said nothing, but kissed each new scar and made Harry feel whole again.

“The tech department has already been looking into some options for prosthetics,” Harry tells him, because he knows Merlin is predominantly a practical man and would rather plan for the future than hear condolences about the past. “I’ve made them promise no blades for heels, and that whatever it is is more stylish than that ghastly arm Charlie was sporting.”

“Forget them,” Merlin says, struggling to sit up. Harry idly places his free hand on Merlin’s chest, pushing him down again, then adjusts the setting on the bed so it rises to the upright position. “They’re all idiots, the lot of them,” Merlin continues.

“Don’t be so harsh on them,” Harry says. “They’re not nearly as incompetent as you make them out to be.”

Merlin ignores him. “Where’s my clipboard?”

“Oh no,” Harry shakes his head. “No working for you. You’ve just been blown up, for Christ’s sake.”

“Partially blown up,” Merlin corrects him, “and they’re my legs. I should be the one to design them.”

Harry hesitates, but when he sees the determined expression on Merlin’s face, he gives in. “Alright. But just that. No side projects, do you understand me? You’re supposed to be resting.”

“Yes, sir,” Merlin teases, that familiar challenging glint in his eye. Harry moves to stand, and suddenly it’s Merlin gripping his hand rather than the other way around. Harry looks back at him, and there’s a twist to Merlin’s lips. “Hey,” he says softly. “I love you.”

Harry starts, because this is something they don’t say in public, especially not in the Kingsman medical wing. Harry is normally demonstrative, but Merlin is too reserved to be comfortable with it, and so it is only behind closed doors that they tell each other how they really feel.

“What’s that look for?” Merlin asks when Harry doesn’t respond right away.

Harry smiles. “Nothing, darling. I love you too.”

 

**The one where they pull the same shit as Harry (more or less)**

“Why did you lie?” Eggsy asks, after.

Harry frowns, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

It really is after. After everything. After Kingsman being blown up. After Stateman and Poppy and Merlin dying. After the wedding. After Harry’s episodes fade into nothingness. After rebuilding Kingsman, with Harry as a fine Arthur and Eggsy a perfect Galahad and Agent Gawain nee Tequila settling into getting the organization back on track. It’s after, really and truly and in every way. A new chapter.

Eggsy leans forward, purposefully propping his elbows on the table in a way he knows drives Harry crazy. “On the plane,” he says. “Before. When you said you’d never loved no one. Like, I totally get the ‘makes life worth living’ thing, and I can maybe buy the loneliness thing, but I know yous was lying about never loving anyone. Why’d you do it?”

Harry clears his throat and looks away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When Merlin was singing,” Eggsy says bluntly. “When he died. You looked like your fucking heart had been ripped out.”

Harry bristles. He doesn’t talk about this. He never has. It’s not a part of himself that he’s especially comfortable with, although recent shifts in attitude have made it somewhat less distressing than it was in his youth. “Merlin and I have been friends a very long time,” he says curtly. “Of course I was upset when he died.”

“I didn’t say upset,” Eggs says. “Hell, I only knew him a couple years, and you know I was torn up over it. Merlin was a great bloke. But you didn’t look like you’d lost a friend, Harry. It was like…when Merlin died, part of you died with him.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say. He pulls his glasses off, rubs his forehead. Finally he asks, “Am I really that obvious?”

“Nah,” Eggsy shrugs. “I mean, not normally. Just in that one moment, you know? Like you’d dropped your guard.”

“I should have kissed him,” Harry says softly. “I know it’s a selfish thought. His last moment, and what if he didn’t feel the same way? But still. I can’t shake the feeling that I should have kissed him.”

“Good to know.”

The rough voice makes both of them jump, leaping to their feet defensively even before they register who the intruder is. In the doorway, Merlin raises an eyebrow, “You really need to get a new wizard. The lock was laughably easy to disable.”

Harry is frozen, his fingers curled around the back of his chair so tightly that the knuckles are turning white. Eggsy glances back and forth between the two men. Merlin advances, his footsteps a touch heavier than usual, until he reaches Harry.

“You’re dead,” Harry says numbly. “I watched you die.”

“I seem to recall doing the same thing with you a few years ago.” The corner of Merlin’s mouth twitches up into a smile. “Come on, Harry. Did you really think you’d be rid of me that easily?”

Harry still can’t seem to pry his fingers from the chair. Merlin glances at Eggsy briefly, giving him a nod of acknowledgement, and then uses one finger to tilt Harry’s chin up. “As for that kiss…” He seals their lips together, and it takes Harry’s brain a moment to start working, but when it does his hands are finally free to move again, and he brings them up to cup Merlin’s face.

They only separate at Eggsy’s crude wolf-whistle. Harry flushes and Merlin grins. “Yep,” Harry says, his voice a bit high and choked. “Yes, I definitely should have done that.”

“Glad you didn’t,” Merlin says. “Gave me something to look forward too.” He staggers a bit, catching his balance on the table, and then lowers himself into the nearest chair. “Sorry. Still not quite used to these things.” He knocks on his leg gently, and a metallic sound rings out.

Harry raises his eyebrows, “So, the landmine…”

“Took both of my legs,” Merlin confirms. “Knocked together a couple prosthetics on my way back, but since it’s clear you’ll still be needing a wizard, I think I’ll have another go at it down in R&D.”

“Be my guest,” Harry says. He rocks on the balls of his feet, a pause, before he steps forward and kisses Merlin again, short and chaste and sweet. “I’m very glad you’re alive,” he says softly.

“So am I,” Merlin says. He leans back in the chair, and then sits up straight again. “Oh, almost forgot. Guess who I found?”

Eggsy groans, “Please tell me not Rufus or Digby. I think I’ve had enough old recruits coming back to torture me.”

Merlin laughs, “Far from it. Roxy?”

She strides into the room, looking a little dinged up and with several visible bruises still healing, but she’s fine. It’s Eggsy’s turn to stare, “Wha-?”

“I figured someone was going after Kingsman,” Roxy says. “I wasn’t sure if any of the safe houses would be…you know…safe, so when I crawled out of the rubble I stayed under the radar. Didn’t even try to make contact with any of the others. Plus, it wasn’t pretty. I had a lot of broken bones. Found a doctor, old family friend, and he got me set up, kept me hidden until Merlin found me.”

“How did you find her?” Eggsy asks Merlin.

“By happy accident,” Merlin says. “Same old friend. Knew him in the army.” He struggles back to his feet, “Now, if you all will excuse me, I have to make sure the tech department is surviving without me around.” He exits, his strides getting more level and less awkward with each step. They all watch him go.

“You know,” Eggsy says into the silence, “not that I’m complaining or nothing, but is anyone who dies around here actually going to stay dead?”


	2. Drowning in Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin thinks about drowning Harry at Statesman. Slight connection to the dream part in chapter one.

Harry has nightmares. They’re horrible, waking him (and subsequently Merlin) up in the middle of the night, and Merlin feels absolutely helpless to stop them. For a long time, after hard missions that left Harry tense and stressed and seeing danger every time he closed his eyes, Merlin would sing him to sleep, and that seemed to keep the nightmares at bay. Now, after the landmine, after Merlin going down singing, it only seems to make things worse. It doesn’t matter that Merlin is fine. It doesn’t matter that they found him (minus his legs, but honestly, he doesn’t care so much about that because he’s _alive_ ) and brought him home. Merlin singing brings Harry back to that moment, back to that salute instead of a kiss and words left unspoken between them and an explosion that shook the forest.

So, all things considered, Merlin doesn’t really feel justified in bringing up his own nightmares. In comparison to Harry’s, they’re nothing. They aren’t about him dying, painfully or otherwise. They aren’t about especially traumatizing events that he suppressed and never fully recovered from.

They’re about Harry.

And really, it’s just the one nightmare over and over again.

Merlin had met Harry at the Galahad trials. Met isn’t the most accurate word; he had been training under the previous Merlin at the time, and so he’d hovered on the edges and watched the absolute peacock that was Harry Hart strut around and successfully manage to hide from the other candidates that he wasn’t just a wanker with an absurdly fluffy hairdo and an odd interest in butterflies, but a trained soldier. Merlin had been in the RAF. He knew the type.

He had stood behind that two-way mirror and watched everyone panic as the room filled with water, a tense feeling in his chest when Harry didn’t immediately go for the shower area like the rest of the candidates, but checked around the room to make sure everyone had gotten to safety. He’d dragged the mole from his bed and forced him towards the others, and when he’d gotten the tube successfully around the U-bend, he’d given him the first breath.  Merlin hadn’t stopped holding his own until Harry took a turn, but even then he hadn’t really known why the thought of Harry drowning had hurt so much.

He knows now. He knows he’s in love with Harry Hart. It’s why, when Valentine shot him, it had felt like Merlin had died out there with him. It’s why, when he saw Harry again and there had been absolutely no recognition on the other’s man’s face, the broken pieces he’d been carefully mending in the past year had shattered all over again.

It’s why, when Ginger didn’t stop, Merlin thought he might be the one to drown.

He hadn’t wanted to do it in the first place. Merlin knows every trauma Harry’s ever endured. There were safer options, other things they might have done. But Ginger had said this was the easiest, the most shocking, the best chance they had at jumpstarting Harry’s memory.

Watching him had been torture. Merlin had wanted to pull an Eggsy, punching through the glass to get Harry out. It had taken all of his considerable self-control not to grab the tablet from Ginger and shut it down the moment Harry started struggling.

When Harry panicked, Merlin had no choice but to stop it. He had grabbed the tablet without consciously giving his hands the command, and he had breathed a little easier when Harry had gasped in his own desperate breaths.

Harry is fine. Eggsy jogged his memory, safely, with a dog and a gun. But that doesn't stop the dreams.

Because Merlin dreams of Harry drowning. Of him fighting for breath in that tiny room with the butterfly drawings, and failing. He dreams of being frozen to the spot, unable to stop Ginger, or worse, not caring. Watching with that same detachment until Harry went limp. Until the water filled his lungs. Until he died, for real this time.

Sometimes, it's not a two-way mirror. Sometimes it's glass, and Merlin gets to watch Harry banging on it, his eyes begging to be let out. The betrayal when he isn't.

But when Harry wakes up screaming or crying or panicking and looking for Merlin, he doesn't have the heart to mention his own dreams. Instead, he calms Harry down. Reminds him of what's real, and holds him until Harry can falls asleep again, safe in Merlin's arms. Because Merlin can handle one bad dream. And Harry needs him.


	3. Sweet As Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you honestly telling me Eggsy hasn't had the "you know I'm a spy so we should probably talk about the fact that that entails having sex with people sometimes for work" talk with Tilde yet?

“Are you honestly telling me you hadn't had this conversation before now?” Harry stares at Eggsy, absolutely incredulous.

The other agent shifts from foot to foot, looking sheepish and defensive. “I mean, it ain't exactly the kind of thing that really comes up, you know? How do you just casually slip it into conversation?”

“You don't,” Harry says. “You sit down and you have a serious conversation about it. Honeypots are a part of life in this business. Sometimes they are avoidable, sometimes not, and it's only fair to your partner if you have a frank and mature conversation about what you're both comfortable with.”

“But-"

“I'm appalled you waited this long,” Harry continues. “Really, it should have been one of the first things you discussed, once she knew what you did for a living.”

“You're one to talk,” Eggsy challenges. “It ain't like you've ever been in this position before.”

“Nonsense,” Harry says. “When Merlin and I first got together, we had this conversation that night.”

He realizes his words only when Eggsy’s eyes go wide. “I...I thought you said…”

“Shit,” Harry curses. Merlin might actually kill him for this. “Ah…”

“You and Merlin?”

Well, the cat's out the bag anyway, so there's no real use denying it. “Yes. Going on thirty years now. Please don't tell him I told you. He likes to keep our professional and private lives separate.”

“You know I can keep a secret,” Eggsy says, and he's teasing, but Harry can recognize the undertone of sincerity. Of course, Eggsy then ruins it by joking, “So is Merlin okay with you going out and shagging people for missions, or is he the jealous type?”

“ _Not_ that it's any of your business,” Harry says pointedly, “but he's fine with it. Merlin knows where my heart belongs.”

“Aww,” Eggsy grins. “That's so sweet.”

“If you ever mention this conversation again, I will ensure Merlin assigns you to a very long undercover mission in Siberia.”

Eggsy’s eyes widen for the second time in this conversation, this time out of fear instead of surprise. “You know,” he says, “I should probably go have that conversation with Tilde.”

“Yes, you should.” Harry feels a tiny curl of satisfaction watching Eggsy scamper away.

It's dowsed almost immediately when the sound of a throat being cleared rings in his ears. “I know where your heart belongs?”

“Merlin,” Harry says. “You were listening?”

“I'm always listening. You're shit at remembering to turn your glasses off.”

“Are you angry that I told Eggsy?”

There's a pause, and Harry's stomach twists, but then Merlin says, “No, I suppose not. It's about time someone knew.”

“You think so?”

“It's not the eighties anymore. And I've always rather liked the idea of being Kingsman’s power couple.”

Harry laughs, “My darling, we've always been Kingsman’s power couple.”

“And it's about time everyone else realized it too,” Merlin says. “Now, unless you want me to revisit your threat to Eggsy, but with you in mind, I believe there is a stack of paperwork on your desk that needs attention.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry says. He goes to press the button on the side of his glasses to sever the connection, but Merlin's voice, much softer now, makes him pause.

“I do know where your heart lies, you know,” he murmurs. “No matter whose bed you spend the night in for work, your home is with me.”

Harry smiles, “Always, darling. Now stop being a sap.”

“I'm never a sap,” Merlin says gruffly.

“Yes, you are. Just not where anyone else can see it.”

“And what does that make you?”

“The exception that proves the rule.”

“Go do your paperwork, Harry.”

“Yes, Merlin.”


	4. The Ghost of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry thinks about not remembering. Chose whether Merlin is dead or not based on how much you want to cry.

The thing about the reset is that Harry remembers not remembering. He remembers not knowing who he really is, except for a couple of vague memories about being a lepidopterist and a few snippets about his family. He remembers not knowing about the army, about Kingsman. Not knowing about Eggsy. Not knowing about Merlin.

That hurts the worst, looking back. The look on Merlin’s face, carefully schooled the moment he realized Harry legitimately had no idea who he was, haunts him. The handshake, when he really should have pulled him in for a hug and a kiss, makes his chest ache. He hadn’t cared in the moment; they were strangers, unsettling strangers acting like they knew who Harry was when he hadn’t the foggiest idea who they were. But looking back, it’s like getting shot again, only this time in the heart.

Because Harry hadn’t remembered Merlin. Hadn’t remembered the love of his life. And even when he had remembered…he hadn’t said a word.


	5. Private Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because that Elton John thing was too good to pass up.

“You know,” Harry says, glaring at Merlin, “it really isn’t as funny as you’re making it out to be.”

Merlin is still howling with laughter, clutching his stomach and wiping tears from his eyes. “Elton John,” he gasps out. “You saved Elton John, and he offered you a ‘backstage pass.’”

“There really is no need to be so crude, Merlin. I’m sure it was a perfectly innocent offer.”

Merlin manages to collect himself enough that his voice is steady when he says, “You practically radiate rainbows, Harry, and you asked for tickets in exchange for saving the world. I’m pretty sure he could tell you were gay, and watching the replay, I’m pretty damn confident I know exactly what he was offering you.”

Harry paces in front of the couch. Mr. Pickle Jr.’s head follows the movement, but he doesn’t move from Merlin’s lap, where he’s made himself at home. Eventually, Harry asks, “Do you think I should go?”

“Well, he did send you the tickets,” Merlin points out. “It’d be a shame to waste them.”

“You don’t like Elton John’s music.”

“I never said that,” Merlin says. “I said it’s not my favourite. How you can remember that but not remember my actual favourite singer is beyond me.”

“So you want to come with me?”

“Of course,” Merlin says. The corner of his mouth twitches up into a playful grin. “Besides. I bet if you asked, Elton might be interested in turning your duet into a trio.”

Harry groans, “You are actually the worst, you know that?”

“I love you too, Harry.”


End file.
